Chapter 37 - "The Lady Wants You, Sir."

The pupils of the drawing-class put away their pencils and
color-boxes in high good humor: the teacher's vigilant eye for
faults had failed him for the first time in their experience. Not
one of them had been reproved; they had chattered and giggled and
drawn caricatures on the margin of the paper, as freely as if the
master had left the room. Alban's wandering attention was indeed
beyond the reach of control. His interview with Francine had
doubled his sense of responsibility toward Emily--while he was
further than ever from seeing how he could interfere, to any
useful purpose, in his present position, and with his reasons for
writing under reserve.

One of the servants addressed him as he was leaving the
schoolroom. The landlady's boy was waiting in the hall, with a
message from his lodgings.

"Now then! what is it?" he asked, irritably.

"The lady wants you, sir." With this mysterious answer, the boy
presented a visiting card. The name inscribed on it was--"Miss
Jethro."

She had arrived by the train, and she was then waiting at Alban's
lodgings. "Say I will be with her directly." Having given the
message, he stood for a while, with his hat in his
hand--literally lost in astonishment. It was simply impossible to
guess at Miss Jethro's object: and yet, with the usual perversity
of human nature, he was still wondering what she could possibly
want with him, up to the final moment when he opened the door of
his sitting-room.

She rose and bowed with the same grace of movement, and the same
well-bred composure of manner, which Doctor Allday had noticed
when she entered his consulting-room. Her dark melancholy eyes
rested on Alban with a look of gentle interest. A faint flush of
color animated for a moment the faded beauty of her face--passed
away again--and left it paler than before.

"I cannot conceal from myself," she began, "that I am intruding
on you under embarrassing circumstances."

"May I ask, Miss Jethro, to what circumstances you allude?"

"You forget, Mr. Morris, that I left Miss Ladd's school, in a
manner which justified doubt of me in the minds of strangers."

"Speaking as one of those strangers," Alban replied, "I cannot
feel that I had any right to form an opinion, on a matter which
only concerned Miss Ladd and yourself."

Miss Jethro bowed gravely. "You encourage me to hope," she said.
"I think you will place a favorable construction on my visit when
I mention my motive. I ask you to receive me, in the interests of
Miss Emily Brown."

Stating her purpose in calling on him in those plain terms, she
added to the amazement which Alban already felt, by handing to
him--as if she was presenting an introduction--a letter marked,
"Private," addressed to her by Doctor Allday.

"I may tell you," she premised, "that I had no idea of troubling
you, until Doctor Allday suggested it. I wrote to him in the
first instance; and there is his reply. Pray read it."

The letter was dated, "Penzance"; and the doctor wrote, as he
spoke, without ceremony.

"MADAM--Your letter has been forwarded to me. I am spending my
autumn holiday in the far West of Cornwall. However, if I had
been at home, it would have made no difference. I should have
begged leave to decline holding any further conversation with
you, on the subject of Miss Emily Brown, for the following
reasons:

"In the first place, though I cannot doubt your sincere interest
in the young lady's welfare, I don't like your mysterious way of
showing it. In the second place, when I called at your address in
London, after you had left my house, I found that you had taken
to flight. I place my own interpretation on this circumstance;
but as it is not founded on any knowledge of facts, I merely
allude to it, and say no more."

Arrived at that point, Alban offered to return the letter. "Do
you really mean me to go on reading it?" he asked.

"Yes," she said quietly.

Alban returned to the letter.

"In the third place, I have good reason to believe that you
entered Miss Ladd's school as a teacher, under false pretenses.
After that discovery, I tell you plainly I hesitate to attach
credit to any statement that you may wish to make. At the same
time, I must not permit my prejudices (as you will probably call
them) to stand in the way of Miss Emily's interests--supposing
them to be really depending on any interference of yours. Miss
Ladd's drawing-master, Mr. Alban Morris, is even more devoted to
Miss Emily's service than I am. Whatever you might have said to
me, you can say to him--with this possible advantage, that _he_
may believe you."

There the letter ended. Alban handed it back in silence.

Miss Jethro pointed to the words, "Mr. Alban Morris is even more
devoted to Miss Emily’s service than I am."

"Is that true?" she asked.

"Quite true."

"I don't complain, Mr. Morris, of the hard things said of me in
that letter; you are at liberty to suppose, if you like, that I
deserve them. Attribute it to pride, or attribute it to
reluctance to make needless demands on your time--I shall not
attempt to defend myself. I leave you to decide whether the woman
who has shown you that letter--having something important to say
to you--is a person who is mean enough to say it under false
pretenses."

"Tell me what I can do for you, Miss Jethro: and be assured,
beforehand, that I don't doubt your sincerity."

"My purpose in coming here," she answered, "is to induce you to
use your influence over Miss Emily Brown--"

"With what object?" Alban asked, interrupting her.

"My object is her own good. Some years since, I happened to
become acquainted with a person who has attained some celebrity
as a preacher. You have perhaps heard of Mr. Miles Mirabel?"

"I have heard of him."

"I have been in correspondence with him," Miss Jethro proceeded.
"He tells me he has been introduced to a young lady, who was
formerly one of Miss Ladd's pupils, and who is the daughter of
Mr. Wyvil, of Monksmoor Park. He has called on Mr. Wyvil; and he
has since received an invitation to stay at Mr. Wyvil's house.
The day fixed for the visit is Monday, the fifth of next month."

Alban listened--at a loss to know what interest he was supposed
to have in being made acquainted with Mr. Mirabel's engagements.
Miss Jethro's next words enlightened him.

"You are perhaps aware," she resumed, "that Miss Emily Brown is
Miss Wyvil's intimate friend. She will be one of the guests at
Monksmoor Park. If there are any obstacles which you can place in
her way--if there is any influence which you can exert, without
exciting suspicion of your motive--prevent her, I entreat you,
from accepting Miss Wyvil's invitation, until Mr. Mirabel's visit
has come to an end."

"Is there anything against Mr. Mirabel?" he asked.

"I say nothing against him."

"Is Miss Emily acquainted with him?"

"No."

"Is he a person with whom it would be disagreeable to her to
associate?"

"Quite the contrary."

"And yet you expect me to prevent them from meeting! Be
reasonable, Miss Jethro."

"I can only be in earnest, Mr. Morris--more truly, more deeply in
earnest than you can suppose. I declare to you that I am speaking
in Miss Emily's interests. Do you still refuse to exert yourself
for her sake?"

"I am spared the pain of refusal," Alban answered. "The time for
interference has gone by. She is, at this moment, on her way to
Monksmoor Park."

Miss Jethro attempted to rise--and dropped back into her chair.
"Water!" she said faintly. After drinking from the glass to the
last drop, she began to revive. Her little traveling-bag was on
the floor at her side. She took out a railway guide, and tried to
consult it. Her fingers trembled incessantly; she was unable to
find the page to which she wished to refer. "Help me," she said,
"I must leave this place--by the first train that passes."

"To see Emily?" Alban asked.

"Quite useless! You have said it yourself--the time for
interference has gone by. Look at the guide."

"What place shall I look for?"

"Look for Vale Regis."

Alban found the place. The train was due in ten minutes. "Surely
you are not fit to travel so soon?" he suggested.

"Fit or not, I must see Mr. Mirabel--I must make the effort to
keep them apart by appealing to _him_."

"With any hope of success?"

"With no hope--and with no interest in the man himself. Still I
must try."

"Out of anxiety for Emily's welfare?"

"Out of anxiety for more than that."

"For what?"

"If you can't guess, I daren't tell you."

That strange reply startled Alban. Before he could ask what it
meant, Miss Jethro had left him.

In the emergencies of life, a person readier of resource than
Alban Morris it would not have been easy to discover. The
extraordinary interview that had now come to an end had found its
limits. Bewildered and helpless, he stood at the window of his
room, and asked himself (as if he had been the weakest man
living), "What shal l I do?"